Ancient Worlds Collide... #HistoricalFiction

Calling Crow (Book One of the Southeast Series

by Paul Clayton

Runs Like Deer extended his lance into the water to prod the thing. The surge picked up, moving it forward, turning the large head as if it were trying to look up at its tormentors.

“Aieyee!” said Runs Like Deer, drawing back to hide in the dugout. “It moves!” They watched in awe as the thing slid over the small rocks and continued its snail’s pace toward the beach.

Calling Crow turned to Big Nose, who continued to maneuver the dugout. “Go to the shore. We will wait for it there.”


The form broke the surface of the water and did not move. Calling Crow and the others waded into the sea. Calling Crow held his knife outstretched. Big Nose put an arrow to his bow and Runs Like Deer raised his lance and prodded the manlike thing. Nothing happened.

“Pull it out of the water,” said Calling Crow.

The others grabbed the thing by its legs and dragged it up onto the sand. It was big. Big Nose jabbed at the gleaming shell-like skin, his lance glancing off with a loud clatter none of them had ever heard before.

“It has magic skin,” said Big Nose.

“Aieyee,” said Runs Like Deer.


“With his first novel, Paul Clayton has taken me out of today, even out of the world I know best-- the frontier of the early far west-- and plunged me back to an ancient America that resounds with the ring of truth to my very marrow. Make no mistake about it: This is frontier fiction at its finest and most compelling-- characters that yank you into their lives at this most crucial time in the history not only of this hemisphere, but in the making of the New World. -- Terry C. Johnston, author of Wind Walker

"Headhunters" by Charlie Cole

(our hero, Simon Parks, is pursuing his wife, trying to bring her back after she left him)

I downshifted around the corner, but cut the angle sharper than Claire had and made up even more time. She was just up ahead. I powered forward and tried to get along side. Suddenly, Claire swerved, cutting me off.

I tried the other side, and she did it again. I backed off, giving her some room. She seemed hell-bent on keeping me away. I faked left and as the Audi moved that direction, I pulled up on the right side. We were side by side now in the driving rain, and the blowing wind, traveling at high speeds along a two lane road leading through a heavily wooded area. 

Claire looked at me then. Her face was without expression and she raised her hand in a wave. I didn’t understand. And then she looked straight ahead, closed her eyes and took her hands off the wheel. What…? I looked back at the road and saw the guard rail ahead of us, looming directly in my lights. The headlight flashed against the guardrail. The turn was sharp and to the right. Neither of us was going to make it.

"Go No Sen" by Jacques Antoine

They rode for a couple of hours through the woods, hardly ever coming out from under the canopy of trees. If anyone was looking from above, they would be practically invisible. They stopped a couple of times to rest, and to give George a break from the jostling of the ride. His wound was starting to bother him. He was losing a lot of blood. Emily began to worry. “Dad, we gotta get you some help,” she pleaded.

“We have to keep going. There is no help around here,” he said

“How far is the nearest town?”

“Chi-chan, it’s another thirty minutes to the car.”

“Dad, you can’t make it that long, can you?”

“I dunno. I think you’ll have to take over from here. You up to it?”

“Trust me, Dad. I can do it. Clutch with my hands, shift with my feet, right?”

“Oh, Lord,” he snorted. Fortunately, Emily turned out to have a better understanding of how motorcycles work than she let on. There were only a few rough bits at the beginning. Her father hugged her from behind, and held on for dear life. He was as happy as he had ever been.

"The Legend of Sasquatch" by William T. Prince

Clint’s body count was now up to five--six including the vegetable. Killing was becoming a habit, and Clint realized that it was starting to bother him less each time. He feared that he was becoming desensitized to death, too accustomed to killing.

"In the Mouth of the Wolf" by Jamie Fredric

A violent attack on the American Forces Network facility in Sicily has left innocent people injured or killed...

No sooner had he gotten the words out, when bursts of gunfire sent the team racing for cover, drawing their weapons.  But it was nearly impossible to see human shapes in the darkness, almost impossible to tell where the Italian workers were.  All the Americans could do was return fire at muzzle flashes.

Adler was familiar with the sound of Uzis and automatic weapons.  Their .45s wouldn’t be much of a match.

“Get back!  Get back!” he shouted to his men, all of them scooting backward, trying to get behind some protection.

All Adler could hope for was that the darkness would give them the added cover they so desperately needed now.  His thoughts went to Moshenko, not knowing where he and the two Russians were, hoping they made it to safety.

Outside they heard shouting and gunfire, total pandemonium.  The workers were completely defenseless.  They were running, trying to hide, but the attackers were coming at them relentlessly.

All the ammunition, rifles, and mortars EOD recovered from the tunnel weren’t going to do them any good now.  Adler scooted closer to one of the Jeeps, reached behind the driver’s seat, and pulled out an ammo box with extra clips for the .45s.  “Taylor!  Behind that seat!  Get the extra ammo!”

"World of the Chernyi: Pedro Six Two" by D. K. Richardson

Two characters, Samantha and Robbie are talking in the aftermath of an attack on a remote farm...  

She sat in the back seat; he sat on the floor, legs hanging out the door.  After several minutes, she said, "It's finally started, hadn't it?"  
 

  "Depends on how you look at it, Sam.  I think it started a long time ago, only now the senseless violence isn't just in Africa or the barrio or the ghetto - now it's in everyone's face.  I've seen this coming for a long time.  I have to guess, so did your folks.  That's why they moved out here - yes?"

  The reply was soft, "Yes, someone broke into our house while we were out shopping.  Within the year, Dad had sold the house, found the one out here, resigned his position and we moved here.  I had to give up all my friends; I was just starting high school..."

Robbie shifted, pulling his legs inside, crossing them, he faced her directly.

  "And it was hard, almost impossible; to make friends, no matter what you did or how hard you tried.  Always the outsider, even after - what - living here for four years?"

  "Yes," this almost a sob.

  "So, did he rape you or just lie to you?"

"The Blasphemer" by John Ling

Samir had decided that tonight would be the night. As he sat in his car with the engine off, he stared at the house across the street. The rain had eased to a trickle, and he could see movement past the windows. The man of the house was helping his wife set the table for dinner. Curtains billowed, hiding the man’s face. But Samir knew it had to be him. The apostate. The blasphemer. 

 

            Samir exhaled, feeling so many things at once. Joy and hate. Faith and doubt. Excitement and fear. Which was which? He could no longer tell. Pain started to bloom in his temples, and he could feel it reaching into his eyeballs, stabbing him in sync with his heartbeat. That damn headache was back.

  

            He clenched his jaw, trying to tough it out. He didn’t want to medicate himself. Didn’t want to risk dulling his senses, blunting his edge. But in the end, the migraine proved too crushing, too searing, and he relented. A bit of pain was good for the spirit, yes, but too much would be a hindrance.

"The Harbor" by Al Lamanda

The sheriff of Harbor Island encounters the recorded voice of the anti-Christ for the first time...

The phonograph rose up from its stand and hovered in front of Stuttgart. The record levitated up from the turntable and the phonograph fell to the floor with a crash.

The record continued to spin in the air in front of Stuttgart.

The demon reached out to touch the record with a hideous finger and the very room itself seemed to implode.

Blaine opened his eyes. He felt cold, almost frigid. He could see his breath.

The office was covered in a layer of frost. He stood up and went to the window. It was a beautiful, late summer day, seventy-seven degrees with bright sunshine and a thin layer of ice coated everything in the office. 

Blaine switched the heat on and set the thermostat to eighty degrees. He poured a mug of cold coffee and placed it in the small microwave beside the coffeemaker for twenty seconds.

The office thawed. He could no longer see his breath. He went to the thermostat and turned the heat off. He sat on Blackwell’s desk and lit a cigarette. That is when he looked at the phonograph and noticed that the needle wasn’t on the record, but resting in its cradle.

"Tech-World Explorer" by Jason Moore

"In the real world, the white robed scientists walked into a giant room with software engineers who are working on something very big and top secret as they watched all that was unfolding. They were teaching the computer to learn and adapt as events unfolded inside the Simulator. They were also working on a new programming language that meshed ordinary words with computer routines to create things on the fly. 

This computer language would allow real-time processing of ordinary language into an on demand programming tool and resource used by the person speaking out loud. This was still highly experimental. On another monitor connected to a mainframe, both scientists and computer engineers watched as the machine learned on its own and generated complex code and algorithms as events unfolded in world."

From "Call of the Jaguar" by Pamela Beason

Rachel hired bush pilot Alex to fly her to a remote Guatemalan archeological site to find her long-lost lover, but their plane is shot down, they're captured by armed men and tied to a tree.

A scruffy-looking dog emerged from the woods to sniff one of her discarded boots. They watched as he lifted a leg and peed on it.

"That's probably symbolic," Alex said. "A representation of our fate."

The dog investigated the other boot. After sticking his nose inside, he picked it up and carried it off into the woods.

"How would you interpret that?" she asked. "We'll be rescued by an unlikely hero?"

Alex snorted, but said nothing.

Rachel moved her tongue around inside her mouth, trying to work up some saliva. Her mind couldn't quite grasp the situation; it felt like she'd stumbled into a bad movie. "You don't really think they'll kill us, do you?" she asked. It was just too much. This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen in the modern world. "I can't believe that I came all the way to Guatemala to get shot."

"That's probably what everyone says before they get blown away."

From "The Adventures of Augustus Fuller" by James Rickon

“Surely you’ve heard the cry these past few days? The village’s oldest inhabitant is back with us once again,” said the professor as he began a slow foot to foot hop.

 

“Don’t be barbaric, man,” scolded Mason. “This is England, not Africa and we do not entertain the likes of lions here. If I were you I would send up to Canterbury to see if any criminal has escaped the prison. As I said earlier,” he turned to Lord Harry, “this sounds to me like the work of some lunatic.”

“Yes, yes I suppose I had better do that,” agreed the young lord with the curious lingering distant look in his eye.

“I say, what do you mean by ‘the village’s oldest inhabitant’?” queried Wood as he put a hand on the professor’s shoulder to steady the man’s increasingly manic hopping. “Is there some old boy with a penchant for blooded beef in these parts?”

Professor Farthing gave a short laugh. “No, my dear sir, I did not mean a geriatric at all. In fact, not even a man if you believe the tales. No, I was referring to what is locally colloquially known as ‘the Devil’”.

From "Lust Takes the White House" by Benson Grayson

Ruthless, intelligent and cynical  cosmetic company tycoon Melvin Shultz has just manipulated the American political process to secure the election as President of the United States of Buck Porter, an inept, woman-chasing ex-governor...

The incongruity of the President of the United States addressing me as “Mr. Shultz” while I called him “Buck” struck me. Of course, it accurately reflected our respective power positions. Without my help, he never would have become President. And I possessed enough detrimental information on him to be confident of being able to force him from office at any time I decided to do so. I wondered if he was shrewd enough to realize that fact.

From "Captain Andrew's Flying Christmas" by Heather Hiestand

The ladder swung sharply as a gust of wind caught it. Andrew leaned down, his warm fingers brushing hers. Linet heard a groaning noise and a whoosh under her feet. Thinking the hull might be splintering, she looked down to calculate her distance to the attic window and saw smoke and light nearby. Cannons boomed, the sound coming from the roof of the Guterman Automen Factory! They must think a pirate attack was imminent.

“We’re under fire!” Andrew dove over the side. “Grab my legs, boys!”

Her heart caught in her throat at the sight of his bravado. She leaned into the ladder so he could drop past her to open the sticky cannon porthole below. Just as easily, though, he could miss and fall to his death.

His downward dive stopped as unseen crewmen secured his legs. He dangled over the side inches above her head. As she clutched the ladder, his hands found her arms and gripped tightly, digging her cuffs into the flesh above her wrists.

From "MiG-23 Broke my Heart" by AK Dawson

Thomas was bored. He was down on his stomach and elbows in a shallow ditch scooped from the side of a dune, his R4 rifle aimed at the border. He was supposed to be watching for terrorists but his eyes were on the only cloud in the sky, a little cotton swab high over the heat and sand of South-West Africa. 

‘Hey, bru?’ he said, without looking away from his cloud. ‘Want to smoke a joint?’ 

‘Shut up, surfer boy. You’re not on Miami Beach.’ 

Thomas turned and squinted up to the lip of the dune. There, silhouetted against the sun like the periscope of some buried U-Boat, was the head, shoulders and rifle of one Pieter ‘Skeletor’ Venter. He was in the same nutria-brown uniform as Thomas and topped with the same standard-issue bush hat, but his uniform was free of creases and all the floppiness had been starched from his hat. 

‘You sure?’ Thomas had been brought up to be polite. ‘It’s Durban Poison.’ 

Skeletor said nothing. He was obviously too busy looking for something to kill.

From "Snorr's Saga" by Timothy Brommer

Stretching out to the horizon, hewn limbs lay as numerous amongst the hacked bodies as the weapons dropped by dying hands. Corpses by the tens of thousands were strewn across the trampled wildflowers of the sunny plain of Asgard, putrefying the air with the pungent cloying stench of emptied bowels and coppery blood. Thousands more gravely injured warriors moaned and wailed as death approached, many blindly pawing at the sky or clutching their wounds.

 

“You’ve waited long enough,” Thor’s father, Odin, called out above the din.

“I don’t answer to him,” Thor shot back angrily, glancing to his right.

His father angled his rune-engraved spear, Gungnir, over one shoulder. “That isn’t the issue, is it?” His father’s spiteful grin jabbed Thor in the belly like he enjoyed knowing his son was troubled. Beside his father stood a lithe dark-haired Valkyrie in a white dress of gossamer cloth. The top of the human’s head barely reached his father’s waist.

“I’m trying to watch the fight,” Thor said bluntly, not swallowing the bait, returning his attention to the pair of human men trying to kill each other.

Soaking in the thrilling sights and odors, Thor eagerly raised his drinking horn.

From "Milkshake" by Matt Hammond

Senator Elmerstein is explaining how the American public has been fooled once. They can be fooled again...

Elmerstein paused and leaned over the table, placing his large craggy palms face down on the burnished maple. He shot a dramatic glance, catching the gaze of every man as his eyes swept the room. “Why was the first space shuttle called 'Enterprise'? I’ll tell you why. Popular myth has it that it was due to a public campaign to persuade NASA to begin a dynasty of spaceships that would carry the name hundreds of years into the future, blurring fact with television fiction. To boldly go where no man has gone before etc etc. A romantic notion, which again captured the imagination of a public actually pretty bored with space travel at that time. So it was decided to call the first Space Transportation Craft 'Enterprise'. The public thought they had influenced the choice of name and it became their spacecraft.  Anyway, gentlemen, I digress. Nowadays the corporate guys have gotten hold of the idea, and the technique they are using is termed, I believe, 'viral marketing'. It’s just starting to be looked at as a serious marketing tool in the commercial world but we believe we can also use it to good effect.”

From "Bad Luck Cadet" by Suzie Ivy

It was a lark, a midlife course correction, the first day of the police academy was hell.

We were told we had one minute to get a drink of water and were sent to the fountain by squads. No one did more than wet their lips.

I was just getting my heart rate under control when the back door at the top corner of the room flew open. A metal garbage can was kicked down the classroom stairs and our class Sergeant stormed in. I thought the other guy was the sergeant but soon discovered my error. The new sergeant made the other look like a pansy.

“On your feet, I’m Sergeant Dickens and you will stand when I enter a room. You will address me as sir.” He had our attention. “Don’t eyeball me; you will look through me and not at me. Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir,” It came out weak. I wondered what the hell he meant. Through me, not at me? I guessed I would be learning.

“What did you say? Is everybody here capable of saying yes sir? Or maybe you don’t understand. Do you understand?”

“YES SIR,” louder this time.

From "Six of Hearts" by Michael P Whateley

It was approaching midnight.  Jackie was getting more nervous as the witching hour approached.  It was not always a good thing taking a bet, but it was something she could never refuse.  Picking another twig up from the floor she dropped it into the metal bin that was doubling as her fire and her back up light.  The twig caught and spluttered to life.  She glanced around the room again.  The fire was casting shadows on the walls making the place seem more eerie than it already looked.  This was the inside hallway of 'last man standing'.  That was the quaint name of the mansion that she was currently cowering in.

     Jackie stood up and walked across to the opposite wall.  Her heals kicked dust up into the air as she walked.  No one had lived here for about thirty years and it showed.  She took the torch out of her pocket and turned it on.  The lantern cast a harsh white fluorescent light around the room.

     There was an old faded picture on the wall that attracted Jackie's curiosity.  It showed a group of men in uniform.  The one at the front she recognized as Major Joshua Madison. 

 

From 'The Accidental Spy' by J. R. Lindermuth

“Have you ever shoved the false?”

“Money?”

“Yes.”

“Never.”

“Would you?”

“I don’t know. It’s dangerous.”

“Are you a coward then?”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t be tempted. I’m just pointing out that the punishment can be a rope around one’s neck. Not something I take lightly. Still, if there’s profit to be made…”

Nell stood and moved behind me, She put a hand on my shoulder, and I felt her breath fan my neck. Her other hand came in to view, and I saw it held a small knife. The point now prodded my throat. “Here!” I cried.

“If you are with us, my love, you’ll find ample profit,” she whispered in my ear. “Should you betray us—“

I seized her wrist and pushed the knife away. “Profit is ample incentive. I don’t need threats.”

From "Whiskers" by Donald H Sullivan

Whiskers was thrown from his master's car in a collision, and in a
daze, has wandered into a swamp...

As he paddled he caught sight of something floating in the stream.  At
first it appeared to be a log, but as it neared him he saw that it was not a log, but a living creature…and it was coming toward him.

He was not yet halfway across the creek, and decided his chances would
be better by  returning to the bank from which he had started. He turned, and paddling with all his might, he started for shore.

The thing was moving fast, and barely making a ripple in the water as it closed the distance between them.
He kept swimming until he was near enough to shore that his feet touched bottom.  Nearly exhausted, he pulled himself out onto the muddy bank.  He was out of the water now, and safe.
 He lay there and panted, watching the creature. It was no longer moving, but was lying still in the water, only a short distance from the point on the bank where Whiskers rested.  Its eyes, protruding above the water, were watching him.